Shush, Little Bird
by Lilybud the Storyteller
Summary: Night had just fallen. Not a soul was in sight this evening…a perfect night. Or so it was... A secret lust for revenge spurs a kidnapping of two residents of Castanet Island. The captives' friends search relentlessly for them, but a misunderstanding turns them against one another. Who is the mastermind behind this abduction? Will the captives ever be freed?
1. Prologue: A Fortune Told

**Shush, Little Bird**

**A Harvest Moon: Animal Parade story**

**By, Lilybud the Storyteller**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harvest Moon or its characters. However, I DO OWN this story's picture, so please do not copy it! Thank you!**

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**Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my new story, "Shush, Little Bird"! A fair warning to my previous readers: the updates for this may take longer than usual since I'm currently working on some other projects (where before I usually just have one major work in progress), but I'm feeling pretty confident about this story so far. **

**Just wanted to clear that up. Also, I know this chapter is rather short, but it is just a prologue. The next chapters will be much longer! **

**Anyways, please read on and I hope you enjoy the story! **

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A hand drew back the faded curtain, which spewed a puff of dust whenever disturbed. An eye the color of gold and an eye the color of emeralds—one to see the natural, and the other to see the supernatural—peered down at Castanet. Night had just fallen. The world was silent as the villagers scurried into their cozy homes to escape the frigid autumn weather. Not a soul was in sight this evening…a perfect night.

Gale pulled back his hand, and the curtain fell into place over the windowpane. A sensation of freedom made him stand a little straighter, raise his head a little higher; it felt like a great, heavy cloak had just been removed from his shoulders. During the day, Gale was an unsociable fortuneteller to Castanet's villagers, nothing more than a mere human like the rest of them. But at night, when everyone was fast asleep, the immortal could shed all false pretenses and become what he truly was: a Wizard.

Without careful eyes, it was almost impossible to see how the Wizard's feet never touched the floor when he glided through the wide room. In the center of his house was a square table big enough to seat only two. On this table were a handful of items stacked on top of one another. First, there was a neatly spread out purple cloth with its ends brushing the floor. Next, came a small plush pillow placed in the center. Gently set into this cushion was the last and most precious item: a crystal ball.

Most people would see this orb as a clear piece of glass, ordinary in every single way. But like most things it needed only the right touch to transform into something magical. After all, isn't magic—like beauty—dependent on the eye of the beholder? And some people just have a better eye for things than others.

A half a dozen thin, narrow candles were arranged in a semi-circle around the crystal ball. With a wave of Gale's hand the candles were lit, their flames softly illuminating the room. The Wizard sat down in the chair facing the doorway. He reached underneath the table, and retrieved a pouch with ancient runes and spells embroidered into the cloth. From within the bag he could feel the ground Fugue Mushrooms shifting in his hand, the fine grains tumbling and readjusting themselves into tiny hills. It felt considerably lighter than he remembered it.

Gale sighed. He was once again running low on the essential ingredient. It had been easier to collect the fungi when there was no competition, but that had changed a few seasons ago when Molly returned the Witch Princess to her original form. Those peaceful hours where the Wizard could take his time strolling through the forest and look for the Fugue Mushroom were gone. Now every day was a competition between him and the Witch Princess to see who will get the mushroom first.

An involuntary frown crossed Gale's face. He tried not to think about _her_ whenever possible.

The powder easily parted when he grabbed a handful of the substance. Gale raised his fist over the crystal ball, and let the powder sprinkle through his fingers. The showering particles landed and stuck to the clear surface like glitter sticking to glue. Then each one burst into crackling spectacles of light, reflecting off the glass in rays. It wasn't long before the entire crystal ball was covered in these shining fragments. It was like a sun trapped on the planet its obligated to give life to.

The Wizard knew what came next.

He closed his eyes right before the sun exploded in a harsh blinding light, banishing every shadow from within the house. If the curtains were not drawn (and a concealment spell had not been cast), the building could've been mistaken as a lighthouse from the outside. When the brightness faded from his eyelids, he opened them. While his mortal eye still had to adjust to the darkness, his golden eye could pick out each shadowy detail in precision.

In front of him was the crystal ball, still ordinary in every way except for one hard-to-ignore detail. The glow had been sucked into the center of the orb, and was now suspended as a pinpoint of pure light. Gale watched it for a moment before leaning close, his breath fogging the glass, and whispered, _"Revelare."_

Instantly the light became agitated, shaking erratically, before turning darker and indistinct. Soon its brightness was gone and replaced by a thick, gray, undulating fog that quickly expanded. Craving more room to grow, it swelled until it was pressing against the walls of its unyielding crystal prison. The Wizard patiently waited as this struggle continued. When the fog finally accepted that its barrier wouldn't relent, it began to collapse into itself with a sound like a groan, becoming smaller and smaller until it was a fixed size. The gray clouds were now just a single churning mass within the crystal ball.

In a stronger voice, Gale repeated the command, _"Revelare!"_

This time the fog did not respond in any rapid actions. Instead it changed in subtle, unhurried movements, like a bud gradually transforming into a flower. Gale scrutinized the fog's barely perceptual motions with the eye of a trained specialist. It began stretching itself until the smoky tendrils grazed the top and bottom of the crystal ball. Then sections of the middle began to dissipate until vanishing completely, leaving behind a bizarre pattern of semisolid stripes. Then the upper and lower part of the fog began to thicken like a base.

The form was still too vague to accurately guess what the crystal ball was trying to reveal. Nevertheless, the countless possibilities were already running through the Wizard's mind.

A house, perhaps?

No, that's not it…

A basket?

It could be possible…

_Knock-knock-knock!_

Gale's concentration was abruptly shattered. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep, relaxing breath. When he let the air out, all of the candles were simultaneously extinguished with the sharp scent of smoke, shrouding the room in darkness. The crystal ball and its prediction were lost from sight.

If the knock had not come, if Gale had stayed just a moment longer, he would have seen the fog transform into an undeniable shape: a cage.

But he did not.

Lowering the precautionary spells, Gale glided to the door. When he pulled the door ajar, a rush of chilly air brushed back his cape. He mumbled in a monotone, "The fortuneteller is closed for the evening. Please return tomorrow at—" The words died on his lips. For the first time in years, astonishment widened his multi-colored eyes.

_"You." _

A calm voice as smooth as honey answered him, "Hello, Wizard. Surprised, are you?"

"You must go." Gale's face twisted into an uncharacteristic snarl. Already the beginnings of a defensive spell formed in his mind, but his visitor was one step ahead of him. Before his spell was finished, a pale finger raised and pointed directly at his chest. An incomprehensible whisper, soft and haunting like a ghostly wind, was uttered.

The last thing Gale saw was an unearthly light about to consume him.

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**Okay, some of you who have read my previous story probably know what I'm doing. After all, a lovely person recommended this before (and thank you SO MUCH for that!). For now, however, please be a good sport and keep my little secret a secret for those who don't know. Don't worry; this isn't much of a mystery story, but I still would like to retain the element of surprise. Mwahaha!**

**Also, please review! If you spotted any mistakes or have suggestions/advice, then I'm all ears. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading and please look forward to the next chapter! :)**

**PS: I looked up the Latin word for 'reveal' and it turned out to be 'revelare'. I'm not sure if this is accurate or not, so I apologize if you do speak Latin and know that the translation is hilariously/terribly wrong. Sorry!**


	2. Where the Wind Takes You

To Le Redhead Merchant: Wow, thanks for being the first reviewer! Ha, it's good to know that I represented the Wizard well enough. :) Believe it or not, I didn't interact with him in the game a lot (besides the storyline, of course), so that was a good chance to discover more about his character.

To Cotton Candy Mareep: Oh, thank you! I'm glad you think so highly of this so far. This is my first time trying to write something with a true focus on suspense/mystery (which I'm rather anxious about), so your encouragement definitely helped! Also, thanks for keeping my little surprise, hehehe.

To XxTinyyxX: Aww, thanks! :D I try to focus on making stories realistic so the reader truly feels involved, and it's awesome to know that I'm succeeding so far! Ha, I'm glad your attention has been caught.

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** Disclaimer: I do not own the references I used in this story, which involved an Eagle's song called "Witch Woman" and a Taylor Swift song called "Red". Also, there are some minor references to my previous story, "The Thousand Lumber Bet", but you don't need to read that to understand this.**

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**Chapter 1:**

**Where the Wind Takes You**

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It may be obvious to only a few, but the Fugue Forest was bustling with life. Flocks of birds glided across the sky in bright dots of color, twittering to one another as if gossiping about the latest wildlife events. Squirrels leapt from one tree branch to the next, disturbing the dozing owls, who huffily ruffled their feathers each time one went by. Even the hundreds of deep-rooted trees acknowledged their homeland by rustling their red, orange, and yellow leaves to the wind's sound, crafting the tune of fall.

Right now, somewhere deep in the forest was a human that hadn't been born under the tapestry of sunlit leaves, unlike most of the wood's inhabitants. But he belonged to it just the same. He was a person who'd discovered the forest's secrets and knew the birds' songs. He was a person who could navigate through the maze of trees better than any clever fox, and could speak the language of beasts even better than a chattering chipmunk.

He was a person who was currently rambling on about muffins and cupcakes.

"It makes no sense! There are already too many words that mean exactly the same thing. For example, there's a _hundred_ different ways to say _extreme_. Who needs a hundred different names for the same thing?! It makes my head hurt to remember it all...or maybe that's because I hit my head too much… Oh, where was I again?

Ah, right, muffins and cupcakes! So they both have those puffy top thingies, they both taste good, and they're both made with flour…I think. Huh, actually I don't know what their made from; I've only ate them before, but never cooked them… But anyways, if they're _sooo_ alike, then why call them something different? What do you think, Molls? Molly? _Hellooo?_"

Luke stopped in his tracks and looked beside him. When he found only an empty space, the carpenter turned around. Molly was standing not far behind, her feet unmoving, and looking deep in thought. In fact, she was so deep in thought that she didn't notice when Luke approached; nor did she notice when he leaned in so their faces were only a few inches apart. The carpenter drew a deep breath, taking in as much air as possible before shouting, "MOLLY! THERE'S AN ALIEN INVASION AND WE NEED MORE HONEY!"

Molly took jumping out of your skin to a new meaning.

It was difficult to decide which was louder: Luke as he laughed, the flapping of wings when the startled birds deserted their perches, or the pounding of the farmer's heart. When she was certain the scream in her throat was firmly choked down (and her heart wouldn't explode from her chest), she hissed at the carpenter. _"Don't do that!" _

Luke was too busy cracking up to take any notice. The farmer rolled her eyes but decided not to pursue the matter further—she'd get even, after all. Then he'll be sorry…

Once his fit of laughter faded away, he looked at Molly with that goofy grin of his. The farmer mentally swore; it was hard to stay mad when he looked so bloody cute. "Sorry," he said, wiping a tear from his eyes. Somehow he didn't sound very sorry. "The chance was just so perfect, I had to take it."

"You're a jerk, you know that?"

He grin didn't waver an inch. It was possible there was a force field around his mind that deflected any unkind words—that would explain a lot, actually. "Love you too, Molls."

Deciding it wasn't worth the effort to test the force field theory, the farmer merely shook her head and continued on her path. Like an eager child, Luke swung his arms while he kept a brisk pace beside her. It wasn't long before the whistling started. Molly wasn't surprised when some perching birds tilted their colorful heads at the tune. Their black beady eyes stared at the carpenter, sizing him up, before they released a series of chirps that were perfectly in tune with the melody. The farmer smiled; the scene reminded her of a summer day not so long ago.

Luke's whistling drew to a stop, though the sweet chirping continued to linger amongst the trees. "So what were you thinking about?" he asked. "You know, when you were ignoring my world changing speech."

Molly quirked an eyebrow. "You mean when you were rambling about the unjustness of breads?"

"So you _were_ listening!" exclaimed Luke, pointing a finger at her.

"It's hard not to. There's like a mini amplifier in your throat. Hasn't anyone told you before to use your indoor voice?"

"Nah, everybody was too busy shouting at one another to be quiet so they can hear the TV. And besides…" The carpenter skidded to a stop and spread his arms wide, like he was gesturing to the whole of Fugue Forest. "In case you haven't noticed, Molls, look around you. We're as far away from the indoors as we can get."

"Unless we go to the Amazon Rainforest, you mean."

He chuckled.

Using her boot Molly traced a pattern through the leaves that masked the ground from sight with a carpet of bright yellow. _Luke's eyes are yellow,_ she thought absentmindedly. The corners of her lips quirked upwards when she imagined how his eyes crinkled just the tiniest bit when he smiled, which was quite often.

A hard-to-ignore voice dragged Molly from her fond observations and back into reality. Luke was only a few inches away, and was looking at her like she was a puzzle with pieces that refused to fit no matter where you placed them. "Hey, whatcha thinking about now? You have a dreamy look in your eyes."

The expression on Molly's face was stuck between bafflement and indignation. "I _do not_ have a dreamy look in my eyes."

In all of her life, the farmer had never been accused with the description of _dreamy_ before. It was a word that brought up images of tweens who still giggled over a guy's butt. Yep, that trait must've skipped her during adolescence. Or so she thought…

A knowing grin slowly inched on the carpenter's face. "Oh, yes, you do!" he insisted. "Your eyes get all glossy and out of focus, like you're thinking about something sappy. When you see _that_ look on somebody, you just _know_ they're thinking about hot babes and vampires making out."

Molly shook her head. "I can't believe you just said _hot babes_."

Luke pointed a finger at her again, except this time it was for accusing instead of emphasizing. "Haha! You didn't deny it! You were thinking about some hot guy! And I got a good bet of who he is," he winked.

"Doofus," she muttered. Not for the first time the farmer wished she had some duck tape. Silence may be golden, but duck tape is silver. And right now, she could seriously use some.

Molly didn't deny the fact she was probably being ridiculous (though compared to Luke, that didn't mean much). She and the carpenter had been officially going out since the Thousand Lumber Bet, and while she loved every second of their relationship (most of the time, anyways), some uneasiness would still occur whenever it came to discussions on romance—even if it was with her boyfriend. What can she say? Old habits die hard.

"Admit it," taunted Luke. "You think I'm a hunk. A macho man. A studmuffin. A beefcake drizzled in honey-goodness." With each comparison he took a deliberate step backwards, his gaze never lifting from her face. The challenge sparkling in his eyes was as clear as the cocky smirk twisting his mouth, taunting her.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"As serious as pancakes." To Luke, that was a very solemn matter, indeed.

_Oh, why not?_ Molly thought, smiling at the carpenter's silliness.

Then she did what he was hoping for. She lurched forward, grasping the air where Luke was just a moment ago. The carpenter jumped back, turned around, and ran away with a laugh. The farmer grinned before chasing after him.

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"I'm _sooo_ bored."

"We've heard you the first, second, and third time, Chloe," grumbled Owen to his cousin. Bo nodded in agreement.

"Well, it's still true."

The three friends were lying on the dusty floor of the carpentry with their heads barely touching each other. The blacksmith and carpentry were closed because Ramsey and Dale, two old friends, decided to spend the afternoon together at the Brass Bar, which undoubtedly involved several beers, some dirty brawls, and stories told later that should not be heard by young ears. This usually happened once a season, but when it did occur, Owen, Luke, and occasionally Chloe would spend their rare day off by coming up with as much mischief as humanly possible.

However, Luke has been spending more and more time with Molly. This was understandable, of course, but his presence was still sorely missed.

After counting the ceiling's paneling for the third time, Bo sighed, "I wish Luke was here. He'd think up something fun."

Owen turned his head to look at him. "Hey, what about me? Am I not good enough for you?"

Not wanting to be rude, Bo kept silent. Apparently that served as an answer to Owen, who was already irritated from doing nothing for so long. Glaring at Bo, he snapped, "Go and dye your hair blue if you want Luke that badly. Then at least I'll have something to laugh at."

The boy evenly replied, "But your personality matches his better."

"What? And dye this beautiful head?" Owen looked incredulous as he brushed his fingers through his spiky hair. "No way, man, the chicks dig the red."

Chloe snorted. "Kathy alone doesn't count as _chicks_."

The miner reached over and tousled his cousin's hair, her head all but disappearing under his huge gloved hand. "Aw, come on, Chloe. Don't you dig the red?"

"I prefer pink," she grumbled, patting down her messy hair once he removed his hand. Once she deemed her hair was in place again, she lifted her feet into the air and let them bang against the floor with a groan. "I'm _sooo_ bored! Can't we do something?"

"We could pull a prank on Chase," suggested Owen, a wicked grin already on his face.

Bo looked confused. "Why would you want to do that? He hasn't done anything to us."

"Now I remember why you didn't hang out with us before." The miner shot him a withering look. "And dude, he has offended me in the worst possible way next to taking my hammer. The last time I went to the bar he refused to gimme any alcohol!"

"But that was Hayden who did that," pointed out Bo. "And that's because the time before you got drunk and started dancing on the table and singing _Witchy Woman._"

Chloe shuddered, a cringe twisting her face. "Ugh, why did you have to remind me…"

Owen glared. "Hey, at least I didn't start singing _Red _in my underwear_._ Goddess, I still can't believe you fainted."

A painful red enveloped the boy's face. "I was in _pajamas!"_

"Winnie the Pooh jammies isn't an improvement, either."

Before the fight could escalate further, Chloe rolled onto her stomach, propping her head on her hands. "Boys, boys, let's focus on our current dilemma, okay? So, what shall we do?"

"We could, eh…" Owen paused, scratching his head as if hoping it would stimulate ideas. "Luke and Molls are in the forest, right? Well, why don't we just find them and drag them back here."

"But shouldn't we let them have some space?" Bo asked. "They _are_ dating, after all."

"If they wanted alone time, they should've gone to Toucan Island," pointed out Owen. "We don't have enough gold to follow them there."

However, Chloe was not listening to this. She was too busy pondering over her cousin's idea. After a certain, eh, _accident_ involving a very high tree and magically floating rope, Chloe and Bo were not allowed into the Fugue Forest without adult supervision (if you can count Owen and Luke as adults…which any wise person wouldn't). And being a free spirit who hated restrictions of any sort, Chloe despised the punishment. To make matters worse, her grandfather, cousin, and Luke have been busy almost every day, excluding this one, so she had not been to the forest in quite awhile.

"Boys," she said with a large grin. "We're going to the Fugue Forest."

* * *

Luke didn't know when he stopped hearing the crunch of leaves following him. The sound must've stopped only a few minutes ago. When Luke realized this, he let his running slow to a jog; a chase wasn't fun if his pursuer loses him. The carpenter turned around, barely coming to a stop, and cupped his hands around his mouth_. "Molly!"_ he hollered, the drawn out syllable reverberating throughout the forest. "C'mon, even Toby can run faster than that, and he can barely see past the end of his fishing pole!"

The carpenter didn't wait before speeding off again. His silhouette was all but a blur through the screen of quivering golden leaves. A chuckle rumbled in his throat. He could just imagine the flustered look on Molly's face when she finally catches up to him: her face burning red from exertion, the slightest pout to her lips when she finds him, and the glare that would quickly follow it.

The corners of his mouth shaped into a crooked grin. Luke was rarely intimidated by Molly's exasperation; not when all he wanted to do was kiss that endearing frown until she was smiling again, laughing the laugh he loved. It's only when she takes her axe out when Luke forgoes the smooch and runs away as fast as he can (usually to crawl under Pops' bed).

Deciding the chase had gone on long enough, Luke skidded to a step. He staggered to a nearby pine and leaned against it, the rough bark prodding his back. The adrenaline that had coursed through his veins only moments ago rushed out of his body until he was left with only aching muscles. A hand clutched the pain at his side.

Luke struggled to catch his breath. It was a surprise when humid air filled his lungs, heavy in his mouth, instead of the autumn-chilled breaths he was expecting. Nonetheless, he greedily sucked in lungful after lungful. The shirt he was wearing molded to his lithe form, the cloth hot and damp against his skin. Once Luke's breathing was under control, he scanned his surroundings.

Almost immediately a frown tugged his mouth.

The carpenter prided himself on his nearly flawless sense of direction in the Fugue Forest, but now his mental map was failing him. A rush of panic flooded through Luke. He didn't know where he was. A gut feeling told him he was deep in the forest, but exactly how deep was unclear.

Usually Luke could find his whereabouts by spotting patterns in the landscape—like two raspberry bushes followed by a pine with a stumped branch meant he was close to the forest's entrance—but this time when he tried to place his surroundings, he ended up with nothing but a nagging impression tickling the surface of his memory. Something told him he'd been here before, but the blurred memory skirted out his reach whenever he tried to focus on it. It was like trying to remember a person whom you only met in passing—and just as frustrating.

A string of curses that would make Pops cover his ears spewed from Luke's mouth. It wasn't the fact he was lost that frustrated him. In fact, unlike most people, he would _intentionally_ hike in a random direction in order to get lost. But this time it was his own stupidity rather than deliberateness that set him off course. If he hadn't been so focused on showing off, he would've paid more attention to his surroundings.

With a resigned sigh, Luke let his head thump against the tree's knotty bark. On the bright side, at least one more area was filled out in his mental map of the forest. He could also think of this as a new adventure he could tell to Owen and Bo. All it needed was some creative retelling (with some _slight_ exaggeration, of course) to become a thrilling story. He just hoped Molly wouldn't spoil the fun by telling the truth.

Then the image of the farmer rose up in his mind. He could just see her roaring with laughter at the sight of him—Master Luke, ruler of the forest—lost in his own kingdom. Sure, she would tease him for a while, but in the process he would at least see her nose crinkle with amusement. The image brought a smile to his face.

He hoped the farmer would prove herself smarter of the two—as she so frequently did—and find him so they can get out of here in time for dinner.

Then Luke remembered. Shouldn't Molly have caught up by now? She couldn't be that far behind him.

Right…?

Tilting his head, he listened.

And heard nothing.

Not the sound of footsteps, or the cheerful calling of birds, or even the leaves rustling from a breeze. All was silent to the point of being unnatural. It sent shivers down his spine. One of the first lessons his ma taught him as a kid was when the forest was quiet, danger was near.

Luke pushed himself off the tree, his eyes darting around, searching for any sudden movements. A hand automatically jerked to the axe strapped to his side. Though the idea of hurting any animal made him cringe, he wouldn't hesitate to defend himself if worst came to worst. For a rare moment Luke stood still, his muscles tense as his instincts prepared for a fight or flight situation.

A long moment passed while nothing happened. Nonetheless, Luke didn't let his body relax. He raised his head slightly and sniffed.

There was an odd scent that didn't carry the crisp, woodsy smell of crunched leaves and sweet maple trees that belonged to autumn. Instead a musty odor filled with strong traces of mud and decaying plants made Luke's nostrils flare like a wolf.

At last the pieces clicked together: why the air was humid when it should've been cool, why there was not a single sound, and why the air carried such a musty odor.

He was by the swamp—the _Witch Princess's_ swamp.

_Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad,_ thought a panicked Luke. _Like badder than Pops on bath day._

Now that he knew where he was, Luke had no problem heading in the opposite direction of the swamp, away from the Witch Princess. From experience he knew that the witch wouldn't harm Molly because of some history between them that Luke had always been too scared to ask about. However, the Witch Princess would not spare the same courtesy to the carpenter. There were, eh, _accidents_ that caused some bad blood—bad blood meaning the witch wouldn't hesitate to electrocute him. Already he could imagine the immortal's eyes glinting like a lion ready to pounce right before she incinerates him into a pile of ash.

Luke ran faster.

At last the remaining traces of the musty swamp faded away. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the atmosphere was already beginning to feel safer. Luke grinned. He was free! He was—_CRACK!_

_"_Oh, crap."

The carpenter had only enough time to look down—shards the color of obsidian were scattered around his feet like broken glass—before a miniature tornado surged from the fragments. In the blink of an eye, a wall of colossal winds surrounded Luke. His hair was whipped in a tangled mess of blue, while his eyes were burning until they watered. All he could hear was a howling screech.

One moment a cool mist sprayed Luke's cheeks like he was at Toucan Island; the next the gales became dry and arid; and then they stank of exhaust from city cars.

Suddenly Luke was no longer touching the ground. As if the grown man was nothing but a ragdoll, the tornado raised him high into the air, denying every rule of gravity. Luke flailed his limbs to try to get down, but it was useless. Whenever he managed to fight his way to the edge, the wind merely pushed him back into the center like he was naïve toddler escaping from his crib.

Luke could do nothing but scream while the cushion of air lifted him above the treetops—the very _tall_ treetops. Eventually his struggles ceased at the realization that falling down now would be a death sentence.

With its prisoner in tow, the tornado slowly began to move, inching its way through the forest. Even the trees seemed scared as they thrashed wildly back and forth as the unnatural force of nature neared, their branches clashing against one another.

Luke's frightened eyes watched the progress, waiting to see where he was being taken.

In minutes the color drained from his face.

"Oh, _crap! _Why can't this be Owen instead of me?_"_

* * *

"I'm going to kill him."

Molly jogged through the forest, weaving in and out of the branches that stretched to catch her. Her eyes searched for a glimpse of blue amongst the earthy tones of autumn. "But first I have to find him," mumbled the farmer.

It had been awhile since she last heard a shout from Luke, egging her on. In the beginning of the chase at least three taunts, each followed by a cocky grin, came each minute to guide her. However, the calls gradually came from farther away as Molly struggled to keep up with the carpenter. Now they came too few and far between. Though she knew the Fugue Forest well after an entire summer spent within its depths, her experience couldn't compare to the lifetime that Luke possessed.

A dull burn radiated in her muscles from running for so long. At last Molly was forced to stop, her sweaty palms pressing against her knees. However, her amber eyes didn't stop their search for a smug smirk that was expected behind every corner. When it didn't come, Molly frowned. A tangled knot of worry tightened in her chest, despite her effort to ignore it. "Where did you run off now?" she mumbled breathlessly.

The words had barely left her mouth when one of Luke's taunts, little more than an echo in the breeze, resonated in the distance. Molly smiled. Perfect timing.

Not wasting a second, she hurried in the direction of the voice. It had come from up ahead. The sound continued to replay in her mind while she strained her ears for another one, but all was silent.

A few minutes passed, and Molly began to fear she lost the trail again. But then something made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She hesitated, her body tensed for an unclear threat.

And then it came.

It was as if the forest itself was groaning. A great gust of wind blew past the trees, which thrashed their branches in alarmed outcry. At the same time masses of birds fled from their perches like a shot had been fired. Molly hastily raised her arms in defense as the gale rolled over her, whipping short locks of hair back in streams of ribbons.

As soon as it had come, the wind dispersed.

Molly opened her eyes. There was no evidence of what had just happened except for a few dry leaves tangled in her tousled hair. For a moment she wondered if she'd imagined the whole thing, but the idea was quickly rejected; the farmer wasn't the type to doubt herself.

Molly didn't bother to pick the leaves from her hair. Instead she bolted headfirst to where the spooky and potentially dangerous force had come from, like every person who had no common sense would do.

Out of nowhere, a strangled yell that Molly instantly recognized roared throughout the forest. Her steps faltered before speeding up, her boots thumping against the dirt. _"Luke!"_ she screamed, heart beating fast.

No reply.

She ran faster.

A shiver crept down her spine, and suddenly the once tranquil trees loomed over her like a menacing maze, trapping her in. They no longer contained nature's beauty, but instead they were filled with more eerie shadows than light. It felt all too much like a horror movie.

At last she arrived at a small clearing. In the center of it was an unnaturally perfect outline of a circle traced into the ground. The thing making it so distinguishable was that not a single blade of grass or leaf was left within the outline, even though the ground around it had the typical cover of autumn. It was like a person with OCD had cleared the area until there was a flawless circle, showing only the dark dirt underneath.

Molly stepped into the ring. A lone leaf, its once vibrant color dulled with age, followed her and broke the unnatural perfection.

In the middle of it was a pile of glassy shards that blended in with its surroundings. Molly used her boot to nudge one of the fragments. A breeze rose from the disturbance, stirring some particles of dirt into a weak tornado; it dispersed only seconds later. Molly's hands clenched into fists, her thoughts racing.

The feeling of dread made her blood run cold when she slowly raised her head, looking forward.

Stretching as far as the eye could see was a questionable path. It was formed by strewn crystals, which looked remarkably like the ones in the pile next to Molly. The minerals were sparing, barely enough to hint at a path, but once recognized it was impossible to overlook. It was like the trail Hansel had made, but instead of white pebbles the crystals were black and sinister.

Each one glinted menacingly like a winking eye, daring Molly to follow the path, daring her to go to its master's home—where Luke had undoubtedly been taken: the Witch Princess's swamp.

"Nice going, Luke," she mumbled.


	3. Part1:You Know You're in Trouble When

**Usually I would write replies to all of my reviews, but unfortunately I'm very short on time right now. I hope you all understand, and I promise I'll write the replies next time! However, I still want to say that your feedback means so much to me, and thank you a bazillion times over! Also, sorry for the exceedingly late update! I originally wrote this chapter and the next as one combined chapter, but I felt it was better for it to be separate segments. The next one will be posted in a couple of days, so please look forward to it! **

**Disclaimer: There are a few **_**Avatar: The Last Airbender**_** references in here, but they're just at the **_**very**_** beginning, as you will soon find out.**

**Also, fair warning: My Witch Princess will be a bit out of character, but that's kind of the point really...**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**You know You're in Trouble When…(Part 1)**

_So this is what it's like to be an Airbender,_ Luke thought, with a surprising lack of enthusiasm for an Aang fan. Ever since the tornado had risen above the treetops, with him at the peak, his hands had been clasped firmly over his eyes and have not moved since. While Luke's stomach began churning with what felt like sour milk, he brooded_, Now I understand why Toph hates flying, even if it's on a fuzzy, eh, cow-thingy…_

Deciding to test his luck, Luke opened his fingers to a slit and peaked out. Instantly he regretted it. The world was nothing but a racing blur of yellow and blue and brown. Just streaks of colors, really, like a picture that was taken right after its subject had moved. Luke felt sick from just glancing at this spinning kaleidoscope.

He snapped his fingers back together and groaned. Even with the cover over his eyes again, he could still feel the world swing to one side and then to other, like a seesaw gone wrong.

There was a reason the carpenter never _ever_ climbed anything higher than the kitchen counter (where he could reach the stash of cookies that Pops stored in the cupboards).

It seemed to take an eternity before the tornado came to a stop. Though Luke didn't dare remove his hands, he could feel the winds beneath him gradually shrink away, carrying him closer to the ground. The howling in his ears died down to a whisper. The breezes that had been whipping his hair back and forth, tying it in knots like a child who could barely tie his own shoes, withdrew its wispy fingers so the locks settled into a messy, blue nest.

When the last of the tornado dissipated, Luke, who was only inches from the ground at this point, dropped with a thud. A flurry of leaves shot into the air like confetti. With solid, heavenly ground beneath him, relief coursed through Luke as he gave a shaky laugh. He could've kissed the dirt right then and there. Instead, he outstretched his limbs and moved them back and forth to create an angel from the leaves—a leaf-angel. The satisfying crunch and the scratchiness across his skin was like catnip to the carpenter. He really should do this more often.

Luke was so elated that he forgot where the tornado had taken him in the first place. Then he remembered.

His limbs froze in their angelic outline.

His eyes snapped open.

"_Crap!"_

All he could see was a pair of ginormous amber orbs, each with a pit in the center that threated to suck him into oblivion.

Luke jumped back with a yelp, scattering another flurry of leaves in the process. Only then did he realize the orbs were actually a pair of eyes. Their owner was a woman standing above the carpenter, who still lay sprawled on the ground. Luke tilted his head up so he could get a better view of who was cornering him. Immediately his breathing hitched.

The woman was beautiful. Dazzling.

_Ethereal_.

She was like a princess that stepped out of the dusty pages of a fairytale, carrying all the loveliness and splendor of her former world along with her. Her hair fell in gentle curls that shimmered like woven moonlight whenever she moved. Amber eyes, so mesmerizing that you couldn't tear your gaze away, stood out like beacons against skin as white as porcelain. One word from her ruby lips would make any man strive to be the prince that dreams are made of.

Any man…except for Luke, that is. All of this woman's bewitching charms were little more than a distraction to the carpenter. It wasn't that he didn't notice her beauty—you'd be blind not to—but he felt no compulsion to turn himself into a prince for her, or anything else, for that matter. (Then again, turning Luke into a prince would be like turning Owen into a ballerina.) There were a few simple reasons why the woman's allure was lost on Luke. First, he was already taken. Second, he only liked brunettes. They made the best pancakes, for whatever reason. And third, this stunning gem's true identity was the bane of his existence (next to heights, that is): the Witch Princess.

As in, the crazy witch who was known for her spells that could potentially annihilate Castanet and turn its residents into dolphins.

It also didn't help that every time she found the carpenter chopping lumber in the forest, she would threaten to turn him into a tree.

The thought of spending life rooted to one place with birds pooping in his branches made Luke feel sick all over again.

"Oh, that's it…" With a groan, Luke rolled onto his stomach and lost his lunch.

An ear-piercing shriek cut through the air when the witch leapt away, trying to avoid the mess. Luke ignored her jet of swearing, and collapsed onto his back in exhaustion. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he only wished he had aimed for the Witch Princess's perfectly polished shoes. Snob…

"You _moron_!" she screeched, stomping her foot like a tantrum-throwing child. "How _dare_ you trespass my property and then _defile_ it!"

Eyes flashing red, the witch pointed her index finger at the carpenter. Seeing the threat, Luke found the energy to scramble backwards, the palms of his hands scraping against twigs and dirt. When his back bumped into a tree, stopping him, he raised his arms as if that could provide a barrier between him and whatever spells the witch might throw. "Hey, look, this isn't my fault!" he insisted. Already his thoughts were racing of how he could get out of this mess alive and with all body parts still attached. If only Molly was there, she could calm the witch.

Scowling, the Witch Princess lowered her outstretched hand by an inch, the smallest sign of hesitation. "Better speak quickly."

Taking his chance, Luke swallowed the acidic taste in his mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and blurted out, "I was walking through the forest, minding my own business, when a bear leapt out and started to chase me. I didn't want to kill an innocent animal, right, so I led it to a friendly mama-bear. Well, it turned out they were old sweethearts in cub-high school, so they were _really_ happy to see each other. You'd think a bear hug would be all warm and cuddly, but nobody tells you how scary it is! What with those sharp claws and those _teeth_ and—"

"Do all mortals waste their lives by talking about stupid things?" interrupted the Witch Princess.

"What? You don't believe in lonely bears in search of love?"

"That and along with your sanity."

"Look who's talking," muttered Luke.

With an expression that bordered on murderous, the Witch Princess pointed her finger at him, shaking it threateningly. "Don't make me use this," she said.

Luke gulped. "Right. So I left the reunited sweethearts and started walking again. It was only a few minutes before I stepped on some stupid rock. It made a loud _crack,_ and then there was a _whoosh,_ and then there were winds that lifted me into the air, and I went '_crap, crap, crap',_ and then the winds dumped me here." At this point, Luke had already forgotten the witch's threat—years of living with Gill makes you like that.

"After that I made a leaf-angel, and then I opened my eyes and saw you, and then I barfed and then you started screeching, _'You mo—' _

Luke's voice abruptly cut off. Confused, the carpenter tried to speak again, but only a muffled noise came out from his clamped mouth. His eyes widened in panic. Try as he might, his lips wouldn't pull apart; it was like they'd been glued together.

The Witch Princess sighed. "That's better. Now, when I ask you something, you will answer the question without any ridiculous stories. Understood?"

He nodded.

"Good." She snapped her fingers; Luke gasped. "Describe the _'stupid rock'_."

Luke licked his suddenly dry lips before answering. "Er, it was hard…and small."

The Witch Princess's eyes flashed red, and he hastily added, "It looked kinda like one of those glossy black rocks, but I dunno what it's called."

The witch had begun pacing in a short line in front of him. "Black? Odd. The winds sound like my enchantment, but the crystals should be white, not black."

"Hey, if you're a rock collector, I have some good friends who can probably get you a replacement for the one I, eh, broke." Luke went on obliviously. He had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous.

"Maybe it was defected…but no. Pandora said it was a perfect wind crystal, and she knows her minerals. The enchantment should've steered nosy humans _away_ from my swamp…and yet it did the exact opposite. Why?"

"But yeah, Phoebe and Owen could totally get you any type of rock you want, and they'd make sure it's extra extreme! I mean, I'm sure you're rock was extreme, too, but this one will be, like, the extreme king of rocks!"

"I suppose the crystal could've been tampered with, but who could've done it? The only ones powerful enough is I and the—"

"Like, extremer than elephants. Come on, who wouldn't want to have a trunk?" Luke positioned his arm underneath his nose in his elephant impression, but stopped when he saw the look on the witch's face. "What?" he asked, letting his arm droop to his side. "You don't like elephants?"

The temperature seemed to drop by several degrees when the Witch Princess whipped towards Luke, her eyes bright and excited. "I should've known you'd be helping _him_."

He blinked. "Him? How do you know the elephant isn't a girl?"

The witch looked amused. "Elephant? Is that your codename for him? Even with a thousand years, he still lacks style. And yet he thinks he's _sooo_ clever for coming up with this, isn't he?"

"Okay, I know you're not talking about me, now. If I was clever, I would find invent a thingamabob to cook a hundred pancakes at once." The mention of food made his stomach grumble, a harsh reminder about the lunch he'd just puked and the dinner he'll miss if he doesn't get home soon. "_Right_. Well, now that's cleared up, I think I'll just go—"

Before he could stand, the witch shot out her hand. Suddenly every inch of Luke's body was encased in sharp, numbing prickles, as if spiders were stabbing their fangs into his skin and injecting their paralysis. Luke tried to move but his muscles refused to obey. He tried to shout at the witch but his lips were once again glued. Luke pushed away the rising panic that was flooding into his bloodstream. He focused all of his will into lifting his legs, clenching his hands, moving _something_. But the only thing he could elicit was an aching jaw from gritting his teeth so hard.

An unnerving grin spread across the Witch Princess's face as she watched the carpenter struggle. She looked like a child who would observe with keen interest while a worm burned underneath her magnifying glass. Was this what Luke was to her? An animal subjected to cruelty for the sole purpose of satisfying her morbid curiosity?

"Oh, do you really think I'd let you go so easily?" she said, almost in a purr. "No. I want him to see how pathetic he was in choosing his rescuer."

_For Goddess's sake, who is she rambling about!_ Luke screamed in his head. At this point, he'd figured out that she wasn't talking about elephants.

An ugly sneer shattered the Witch Princess's beauty. "What _did_ he see in you, anyway? Did he really think a measly mortal who can swing an axe would be enough to save him? Hmm, speaking of such…"

When she stepped closer to Luke, every instinct screamed at him to get away, to hide somewhere no one could find him, but her hex had turned him into a living statue. He could only watch with wide, panicked eyes when she bent down so close to him that he could smell the burnt odor of magic that clung to her skin. The witch reached for his waist—no, his _belt. _Her thin, pale fingers found the belt loop his axe was hooked to; the tool unlatched with ease.

Luke yearned to leap up and snatch it from her hands, but his fingers only twitched. The fear he'd experienced earlier was burned away when he watched the Witch Princess spin _his_ axe, the present he'd cherished since his eighth birthday, like it was some common stick she could fool around with.

Well, he fooled around with it, too, but at least he knew what he was doing…when it mattered.

The Witch Princess whispered something incomprehensible under her breath. Luke took that as a sign to brace himself. His squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tensed, as she brought her fingers together, then—

_SNAP!_

Luke winced.

But nothing happened.

The grimace on his face slowly disappeared. Luke risked opening one eye. When there wasn't a repercussion, he opened both eyes and was met with a smirking witch.

"You're lucky, mortal," she said. "It's not everyday I use my magic on lesser beings."

A part of him wanted to roll his eyes, wondering whether Gill and the Witch Princess were somehow related, while the other part of him did a once-over to check that he wasn't missing any body parts. He found that the previous curse had worn away, for his muscles now moved without any resistance.

When all of him was accounted for, Luke was relieved but puzzled. Was she trying to scare him, or did she actually cast a hex that had yet to show itself?

Luke's question was answered when he looked up at the Witch Princess again. In the span of a moment, she grew so tall that she was towering over him like a giantess.

Great. Now he didn't only have to deal with a psychopathic witch, but also a giant one. Just perfect.

The expression on his face must've been ridiculous, because she began to laugh. The noise was so unexpectedly deep that it startled Luke.

Her voice was just as low-pitched when she said, "It's not me, it's you. Just look around."

Luke did. He found it was not just the Witch Princess that had grown, but the trees were like fierce mountains above him. As he grew smaller, the surrounding leaves grew bigger until he could have used one as a blanket.

"What did you—" his squeakier voice was cut off with a cry. It took him a moment to realize it was him that made the noise. _Crap,_ he thought as the world turned black.


End file.
